Running Away
by Zero.Elektronik
Summary: He'll just leave, for weeks, sometimes months. I'm sick of it. Christophe/Kyle.


**Done for the 100 theme challenge.**

**Dedicated to my best friend, and my Kyle - Charlie.  
**

**Warning: Slash.**

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**"_Stop running!"_

"_I'm standing still, you stupeed beetch!"_

"_No - I didn't mean it like that, dumbass!"_

_

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_I don't like being woken up. Especially if it's before twelve. So to be woken up by the smell of smoke and burning ash on my face? Awful. What's even worse is when I weakly open my eyes to see a pissed off, dirty Frenchman standing and staring over me. Which was rather confusing considering my mom had banned him from coming round, and being anywhere near me - apparently, he'd decided to ignore this and climb into my bedroom through the window - Not creepy at all. Asshole, he really shouldn't disobey my mom. Anyway, so as I said, there he was just staring at me, looking angry as usual, blowing smoke in my face. I turned to bury myself in my covers, this was ruined however by him pulling them off me and yelling something in his stupid French accent - it was really stupid, in fact it was one of the things I liked most about him, but I wasn't going to let anyone know that. He said something along the lines "Stupeed leetle Jewish boy. Gregory, 'e 'as a job for you, 'e will call you later about eet" But…more French. Great. Now I have to listen to Gregory's stupid British voice for half an hour when I could be doing something better - Like playing video games.

Grumpily I sat up and met his glare with my own, and asked him why he was here, and couldn't just call - Was Gregory busy? Great. I've been up for…half an hour and I've already been punched in the face. Bastard. I hate him so much sometimes, his stupid accent, the way he always looks so damn pissed off, his stupid tanned and scarred skin and woah, this is getting kinda gay. Stopping right there, then. Unfortunately, I was awake now - so I told him to stay where he was whilst I went and cleaned myself up, stopping to grab breakfast downstairs before returning to my room. He'd gotten ash all over my computer keyboard, urgh, I swear one day I'll kill him. I told him he could leave now - but he decided to stick around and annoy me instead. Are all the French this annoying? I mean, really. It's not like I mind that much though, he could be with Gregory right now, and instead he's here. With me. Stupid British Asshole, I'm sure he'd be pissed off if he knew the location of his precious little Frenchman.

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Anyway, we ended up fucking. I'm not sure how - we were arguing, he insulted me in every way until I couldn't understand what he was on about, he's so angry when he's speaking French too. So instead of sitting there and listening to it, I yelled back at him (this lasted quite a long time, by the way). Which ended up in me kissing him, it's not my fault he looks hot when he's all threatening, right? So, yeah, we ended up fucking. It was rougher than usual, and I've now got some prominent bites on my skin which, just my luck, stick out more considering I'm as white as a piece of paper. It'll be interesting to see how Gregory reacts to the marks on Christophe - Though he can pass off the scratches as incidents from his work, the bites however…I doubt it. I've got burn marks too, since the idiot thinks it's perfectly acceptable to keep a cigarette lit whilst fucking, I mean seriously who finds that fine? I don't.

We've been lying here for a while now -It's really a good thing Mom and Dad aren't home, or even worse, Ike. It's silent, but he never really says much, and when he does, it's always something insulting. He's always so warm; the heat coming off him is immense. I'm watching his chest rise and fall, tracing my fingers over the pale scars that cover his chest and neck. Heh, those are my bites on his neck this time. And I know I'm not the only person on his mind right now, I've accepted that fact - but I know I was just, and he thought of me and only me, said _my _name and was with me. It's petty, sure, but it's enough for me. He's not looking at me, he's watching the smoke from his newest cigarette and I watch too, I never noticed the smoke's pale blue colour as it burns away. And just as I start to get comfortable, he moves, gets up and beings to get dressed again - it's one of the few times he bothered to get undressed, and I appreciated it. It's like saying something would kill him, not even a smartass comment gets thrown into the air. And I should say something, because I don't want him to go, but I don't. And I won't because I'm not giving him the satisfaction. After he's finished putting his dirty clothes back on and making his way to the window, he opens it and looks at me,

"I'm leaving."

"I noticed."

"I mean, for a few weeks."

"Oh. Why?"

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He always does this. Every now and again he'll just up and leave - usually I don't get a warning. He'll spend weeks away, without contacting me or Gregory or even his mother and come back and not mention anything about where he was, or what he was doing. Asshole. He says that he's got things to sort out, that he needs time away from this "stupeed leetle American town". I'm sick of this. For those weeks I'm worried sick, I even start losing at my videogames and find it hard to concentrate on my studies. I'm sure the stupid blonde Brit has to go through the same thing too - it's one of the few things we unwillingly have in common. I'm sick of him thinking he can do what he wants and that it won't have any consequences, because it does, godamn it, it does.

"Stop running!"

"I'm standing still, you stupeed beetch!"

"No - I didn't mean it like that, dumbass!"

"Zen 'ow did you mean eet?"

"You've got a problem. There's something wrong. And you won't fucking admit it - or even talk about it! Instead you just get off and run away, ignoring everyone, who for some fucked up reason cares about you, and just run away!"

"Shut your Fuckin' mouth, Kyle."

"No! I'm sick of you doing this, you fucking pussy!"

"Shut up!"

"No, Godamn it! I Love you!"

"…What?"

Awh, Shit.

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End file.
